


Shiver

by HeartOfAspen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Creature Fic, F/M, Hinted Imprinting, Hogwarts Library, Werewolves, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21861736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfAspen/pseuds/HeartOfAspen
Summary: Hermione heads to the library to reference some books for a Potions project, only to find that somebody else has already claimed them all...
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 78
Kudos: 365





	Shiver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crazy4Wood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy4Wood/gifts).



> This little piece went over my 2000 word limit (oops) and I also ended up using an alpha AND a beta which was also against the rules, but truly, it was a heck of a lot better for it. I want to thank both sarena and I_was_BOTWP for lending their talents to this piece. My gratitude is enough to fill many hundreds of swimming pools full of glitter and rainbows, for realsies. This time of year, there are many better things you both could be doing other than taking the time to help me with a little one-shot. I appreciate you.
> 
> Also, this is a gift for Crazy4Wood! My prompt was only that the story be Dramione, which actually made the challenge really hard. I hope you like it!!!

_Merlin, these corridors always end up so draughty this time of year_ , Hermione thought miserably as she pulled her jumper a little more tightly around herself. The cruel Scottish weather that characterized a Hogwarts winter had blown most of the snow up to obscure viewing through the lower floor windows, while cold seeped in through the stone of the walls. Recalling her wand, Hermione slipped it from her sleeve to perform a low-murmured warming charm on herself. She was never going to quite get used to having magic at her disposal to solve most of her human problems, she was absolutely certain.

Having bolted down her dinner at record speed, she was now leaving behind the din of hundreds of chattering, gossiping students for a much more tranquil retreat. When she finally arrived in front of the doors to her refuge, her hand paused minutely to reverently caress the carved brass handle of the library door before she pulled. 

Stepping inside was bliss, as always. The sound of parchment pages being flipped, the smell of magic and old books, the sight of so many vestiges of knowledge towering before her… it was nirvana to a bookworm like her.

Yet she was here with a purpose, not for pleasure. Professor Slughorn had given the returning eighth year students the task of selecting a potion to brew to perfection over the course of the next few months, beginning after Christmas break. Never one to back down from a challenge, Hermione had chosen the Wolfsbane Potion. Upon cross-referencing the instructions however, she realized she had inadvertently decided on an imperfect potion with multiple different recipes. She would need to do some research before making some important decisions on how she wanted to proceed.

Focusing on the task at hand, she made her way toward the rear of the library. As she passed an alcove containing mostly parchments and scrolls, she noted two classmates sequestered on the golden cushions, very much _not_ engaged in library activities. Upon further inspection, they appeared to be Luna Lovegood and Dean Thomas. Dean, one of only three Gryffindors including Hermione who had returned for their eighth year, had fallen head-over-heels for the dotty Ravenclaw. After spending some time locked in a dungeon together, then a few comparatively tranquil weeks at Shell Cottage, Hermione supposed she could hardly blame them.

Once upon a time, she would have approached and berated them, but this time, she just smirked with amusement and continued past. There were few enough places at Hogwarts for a good snog, especially over the long winter when one could not simply sneak outside for an illicit rendezvous without the risk of catching a cold. Warming spells were only good for so long, and they required concentration.

Finally, she arrived at the section she needed and began to scan the shelves for the first book she was looking for. Its space was empty - she would have to wait for someone to bring it back, which was a shame.

She began to scan for the second tome, but found that it, too, was missing from its place. Well, that wasn’t good, but there were six volumes she was looking for, so she supposed she could start with some of the others.

The third book, also, was gone - and now she was starting to get nervous.

When the fourth book also proved to have been taken from its spot, Hermione began to panic.

For good measure, she checked on the fifth and sixth books as well, only to have her fears confirmed: someone else was researching the same thing she was… only they had got there first.

After a few moments of wallowing, she decided to regroup and headed toward one of the long library tables by the large windows that faced the grounds. There was a gale outside, the wind howling and the snow swirling. Someone had set up a Christmas tree for the imminent holiday right in the middle of the window, and while she supposed it looked rather picturesque, the image of it was ruined when she caught sight of the person sitting at the table directly in front of it.

It was Malfoy, head bent over a bit of parchment he was scribbling away on, his quill moving rapidly as he copied something down from a book that was propped up against a stack of others.

_Wait…_

Eyes scanning the titles of the volumes he had in front of him, Hermione came to a stuttering halt when she realized who had taken all of her books. Anger flared within her. Somehow it was worse that it was Malfoy who had thwarted her intentions.

As she decided how to confront him - because she was determined to do so - she took in the sight of the detested Slytherin.

He looked… different, somehow. Not that she had ever spent much time staring at him before, but he and Harry had always been at such odds that she had certainly _noticed_ him. But, was she imagining it? No, there was definitely something off about him. His white-blond hair was borderline unkempt, and there were dark circles under his eyes… and then, there was something about the way his head was bowed down, that was very un-Malfoy-like. At least compared to the Malfoy of years passed.

With a start, she realized his eyes had raised to hers and was meeting them with intensity. There was nowhere to hide. He had seen her. Interestingly, there was a note of near-panic in his voice when he licked his lips and murmured, “Found me out, Granger, have you?”

Emerging from the safety of the bookshelves, Hermione coolly responded, “I was looking for some books. You appear to have taken them all out.”

His gaze took her in, his eyes blank even despite the pinkness developing on his cheeks. “You’re… you’re looking to make some Wolfsbane?”

She only nodded. In the glow from the fairy lights that decorated the Christmas tree behind him, he looked particularly sickly, his skin nearly translucent. Was he still suffering from the after-effects of the war? For the first time, Hermione wondered how he was coping, having been on the opposite side of things for so long.

It was likely this that made her briefly huff before suggesting, “Perhaps we could share them?”

He continued to stare at her blankly until she was almost sure he was not going to respond at all. Finally, he took a slow, deep breath and pinched his lips before he gestured to the seat opposite him with the end of his quill.

She took the proffered seat and studied him for a long moment before reaching for the book on the top of his stack: _Taming The Beast: Werewolves & Their Transformations_.

It took awhile for Hermione to get comfortable, considering who was across the table from her. Still, after some minutes wherein her eyes scanned the pages and she readied herself to take notes, her second-nature kicked in and she began to read voraciously.

She was eventually interrupted by, “How are you managing it?”

The outburst had come from across the table. Stiffening, her eyes roamed up to meet Malfoy’s, whose cheeks tinged a deeper pink under her scrutiny. “What do you mean?”

He leaned forward and _sniffed_ , which made Hermione lean backward in her seat and away from him. As if he had not done it at all, he brushed some of his hair out of his eyes and queried, “How are you managing to adjust after…” 

He trailed off, leaving her to fend for herself to determine what on earth he meant.

“After the war, you mean?” she prompted, not having expected him to be so forthcoming.

“After being bitten.”

Her jaw went slightly slack as she took in his appearance once more with a new lens: the slightly unkempt hair, the sallow skin… some scars over the fingers that held his quill. A slightly golden ring around the pupils of his eyes… How had she not noticed?

“You’re a werewolf,” she breathed out with awe.

Looking suddenly self-conscious as thought he had made a huge blunder, he recoiled slightly, “Aren’t you, too?”

“ _Me_?”

Any color that had been building in his face drained away. “I just… assumed… since you were researching the potion… that you needed it, too. Greyback, he…” His skin had taken on a sheen of perspiration.

“The potion is for Slughorn’s class,” Hermione swiftly explained. “But Malfoy, if you’re a-”

“Don’t repeat it, Granger,” he snarled quickly. Then, closing his eyes, he buried his head in his hands. “Shite. I can’t believe I told you that.”

Against her better judgment, she reached across the table to lay her hand on his arm in comfort. “Who else knows?”

Instead of answering immediately, he stared down where her hand was touching him as if unsure how he felt about it. The heat of his skin seeped through his jumper and she felt his muscles tense. She was sure he would draw back, but he didn’t. 

“My parents and Pomfrey,” he answered slowly, his eyes still rooted in place as his tongue darted out to lick his lips, “… now you.”

“It’s not enough, Malfoy. You need _support_.”

“What I _need_ is for you never to speak of this to anyone.”

“But I can _help_ -”

“No one can help me…”

“I know some people who-”

“I’m _cursed_ ,” he hissed, wrenching his arm away from her. “ _Cursed_ , Granger, don’t you fucking understand? Can you get that notion through that thick, brilliant skull of yours, hmm? I. Am. A. Beast.”

An image of Remus Lupin swam in her mind, trying to offer his assistance to Harry during the beginning of open war, just over a year ago. Another werewolf resigned to his fate, trying to escape. She took a few deep breaths, to remind herself that no matter how miserable a person Malfoy had been in past years, he needed help now.

“Yes,” she agreed, “but I can help you if you’ll just put aside your pride and try to work with me. Wolfsbane is a good start, but the recipes are convoluted.”

He seemed to deflate all at once, like the anger had simply escaped out of a crack in his pride. “I know. There are conflicting reports on how to make it.”

“Once upon a time, we might have been able to ask Professor Snape,” Hermione agreed, simply glad that he was not berating her any longer.

“But he’s dead,” Malfoy finished flatly.

“Right, so we’re on our own. But, Malfoy-” He looked up at her expectantly, but with suspicion. “It won’t be easy, and you’re a great potioneer in your own right. If you’re willing to put aside your prejudices and work with a Muggleborn…”

He snorted. It must have been a figment of her imagination, for a second she swore his eyes flashed golden. A chill ran the length of her spine. “Like I give a shite about blood superiority anymore.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.” She offered him a tentative smile. “I think we could work well together, and figure this out more quickly for it. What do you say?”

She sat there waiting, watching his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed heavily. With a quick glance around, as if looking for witnesses, he finally conceded, “Yeah, alright.”

A couple of hours passed in near-silence, but for the scratching of quills. Actually, Hermione found it nice to study with someone whose library habits seemed to be similar to her own, except she thought perhaps Malfoy was having more difficulty focusing than she was. At one point, after fidgeting for awhile, he made a small noise of frustration and switched books.

She did not let it bother her, and thought he had finally settled, when he remarked, “You’re not going to find much useful in that one, I’m afraid.”

Looking up at him over the top of the book in question, she queried, “Pardon?”

“It’s ancient, written by a prejudiced prick. Most of the observations have been disproved already.”

“What do you have, then?” Setting her book down, she stood slightly from her seat to reach across the table and tilt the volume in his hands toward her. The moment her eyes landed on the page, however, she snatched her hand away.

The parchment was covered all over in diagrams of werewolf mating rituals. In particular, her gaze lingered on a drawing the author had included in the topmost corner of the page, where a man in mid-transformation was standing up on his two hind legs, a snarl on his hairy, wolfish face... and his very human, very engorged penis jutting upward.

Sitting back down quickly, she shot Malfoy the most disgusted look she could muster. “I hardly see how _that_ information is helpful here.”

Perhaps he thought he was being subtle, but it still alarmed Hermione when she noticed Malfoy slowly give another small sniff. Even more concerning, directly afterward, his eyes flashed fully golden before reverting back to murky grey. Instead of acknowledging either of these occurrences however, he only half-heartedly agreed, “You’re right.”

Just then, Madam Pince came by to usher them out of the library for closing time, extinguishing the gas lamps as she went. Perhaps capitalizing on this diversion, Malfoy slipped the book with the drawings into his book bag as Hermione turned her head, only catching the action out of the corner of her eye.

“I’ll be back here tomorrow evening,” he said. “That is, if you’re so inclined.”

There was something about the way he said it that sounded almost like a challenge. His eyes were golden again. A shiver ran down Hermione’s spine as she began packing up her own book bag. “Looking forward to it.”

He flashed her a smirk before turning on his heel and heading for the exit. There was a strange sense of loss that went with him, which she could not explain. The entire area seemed immediately devoid of heat as well. Glancing outside, she took in the sight of the swirling snow on the high winds, howling through the darkness, and shivered a second time.

_What in Morgana’s name have I gotten myself into?_

The fairy lights on the Christmas tree behind Malfoy’s empty seat twinkled, as if in agreement.

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, I never thought I'd write a creature fic, but there you have it. It happened all on its own.
> 
> If you took the time to read, I'd love to hear your thoughts in a comment.


End file.
